


Jimmy Kent's Haunted Flat

by orphan_account



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, lots of silliness, silliness, tumbrl prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:40:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written by an idiot (myself) to fill the cutest prompt ever, found on tumblr (that would be "I moved into the apartment next door and it's 100% haunted please let me crash here for the nignt" au).</p>
<p>The prompt is pretty self-explanatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jimmy Kent's Haunted Flat

**Author's Note:**

> This is silly... but then again, I enjoy silly, so maybe you do too.  
> I hope you do.  
> It you don't, do forgive me.

Thomas sat heavily of the sofa with a huff. It had been the longest day, and he was glad to be home at last.  
He reached for the cup of coffe that sat on the low table in front of him, and took a sip. It was cold, as he had left it there in the morning, a full fourteen hours before, but it was good enough.

Just as he opened the book he was reading (re-reading, to be precise) (re-re-re-reading, to be painstakingly accurate), the doorbell rang.  
Thomas briefly wondered if pretending not to be at home would have made him a horrible person, and decided that he didn’t give a rat’s arse. He ignored the noise, and laid the plaid blanket over his legs.

The noise returned, the person whose finger was on the button was insistent. Thomas was not appreciative, but he figured that it must have been something important… door-to-door salespeople didn’t work afterhours, did they?  
With a sigh, he got up and took the two steps necessary to reach the annoying bell-ringer.

Thomas cracked the door open suspiciously, but the sight made him forget all his caution, which ran away merrily with his annoyment to god-knows-where. Far away, at any rate.

The person standing in front of him  was… he was the most beautiful person Thomas had ever laid his eyes upon. He wasn’t tall, and young, maybe twenty-four, twenty-five. He had a blond, curly mop of hair, blue eyes, and he was apparently scared out of his wits.  
The last detail hit Thomas some five seconds after the door was opened, which made him feel the biggest idiot in the emisphere. Why, why, why did it always have to be like that?  
  
“Who’s this?” he eventually managed to enunciate, his voice thankfully even and smooth.  
“YourneighbourpleasehelpmemyflatishauntedcanIcomein”, the pretty man choked out. Thomas stepped aside and motioned him to get inside.  
He cleared his throat and closed the door after him, without even considering checking out his arse.  
(That was a lie.)

“Thomas Barrow, at your service”, he introduced himself hoping the stranger would do the same. He did.  
“I’m Jimmy, Jimmy Kent. Also, I’m really sorry for bothering you”, the blond blushed.

“Nah, I love me a good ghost story”, Thomas motioned at the book he was supposed to be reading. It was The Hound of the Baskervilles.  “So, care to explain? Please, take a seat, I will go and make you some tea.”

He got to the kitchen, shut the door and slipped down its length, sitting on the floor with a grin on his face. Yes. Not only there was an handsome guy in his living room, but there was something interesting going on, as well.  
After a handful of moments of glee, he got up and filled the kettle, placing some biscuits on a saucer. He was proud of his cookie selection, and he didn’t often have guests to offer them to.

The water boiled, he poured it into two mugs with teabags. “Sugar?” he called out to his unexpected guest.  
  
“Yes please, two!” was the answer. Thomas nodded approvingly, a fan of sweet tea himself, stopping to sniff the milk before adding it… good job too, since it appeared to have expired in the 1920’s.

He walked back to the cramped living room with a tray, which he sat on the coffee table, and flopped down on the couch, turning to face the other man.  
“Okay then, you’re all set now. Tell me, what’s so scary in your flat?”  
Jimmy looked abashed, and looked at Thomas like a puppy who knew he’d done something wrong. Thomas didn’t find it endearing, nope.

“There was a chest of drawers in front of a door.”  
Thomas motioned him to go on, that was hardly conclusive proof.  
“…so I moved it. And I opened the bloody cupboard.”  
He looked around, took a sip of tea and grabbed a cookie.

“What was inside?” Thomas asked, intrigued.  
“A porcelain doll.”  
“Well?”  
“WELL?” Jimmy exclaimed. “They are pretty bloody scary, mate!”  
Thomas felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards, and let out a small chuckle.  
  
Jimmy looked affronted, but then –slowly- he seemed to realize how amazingly awkward and strange the whole situation was. He snorted.

(He snorted attractively though.)  
  
“So then, what do you propose to do?” Thomas asked, regaining composture.  
“I… I was wondering if I could spend the night here”, Jimmy mumbled.

“Well, I can only offer you to share a sofa-bed”, Thomas answered apologetically “flat’s tiny, I don’t even have a bedroom” he explained.

“Oh but it’s alright!” Jimmy added, almost too quickly. The older man couldn’t believe his ears.  
“So you would agree to sleeping in the same bed as a complete stranger, in his own house?”  
“It can’t be helped”, Jimmy answered decisively.  
  
Thomas shrugged, inquired whether or not Jimmy had any pajamas (he was completely lacking in the area), and opened the wardrobe.  
He pulled out some stripe-y pants and a t-shirt, tossing them at the beautiful silly creature that happened to grace his evening.  
“Bathroom’s that way, you can find a spare toothbrush on the mantle”, he instructed.  
  
With Jimmy gone, he undressed and wore his pajamas, feeling a bit of a sod because they were silky and a deep emerald colour and gay to a degree previously unseen.  
Oh well. It was all Jimmy’s idea anyway.  
  
He brushed his teeth after the other man had left the bathroom, and together they assembled the bed and put some fresh linen over it.  
  
They slipped under the covers, Thomas keeping as close to the side of the mattress as humanly possible, he occupied horizontally almost as much space as one of those packaged cheese slices you melt in toasties.  
  
As Thomas turned the light off, Jimmy began talking.  
And he kept on doing that for hours on end… Thomas was pretty quiet during his ramble, only hmming and nodding every once in a while to show that he was alive, awake and alert (he was actually enthusiastic too, but that is something you express with a “woo-hoo!”, which would have been awkward and embarrassing).

Before drifting asleep, around 3 am, Jimmy confessed that there was no such thing as a doll in the cupboard, he’d just made it up because he had caught a glimpse of Thomas during the move, and he couldn’t get his face out of his head, but he could not find another way of getting to know him and he was sorry and then he began snoring lightly.  
  
Thomas smiled to himself for the rest of the night.


End file.
